


Ceinture

by icandrawamoth



Series: Do You Hear the People Sing? verse [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: (it should really have its own tag), Actors, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Broadway, Feelings, M/M, Neck Kissing, Preslash sort of, Quotations, Reincarnation, The Barricade Boy Sash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 22:48:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4540359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A moment between scenes. Grantaire and Enjolras are still working out their relationship in this new life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ceinture

**Author's Note:**

> Check out the [series page](http://archiveofourown.org/series/268906) for the premise of this verse, or this likely won't make much sense. This fic takes place maybe a week or so after everyone remembers. The other couples basically got back together immediately after remembering being together in their past lives, but Enjolras and Grantaire are still kind of dancing around each other.
> 
> The title is literally French for "sash," because I am creative and _so good_ at titles. :p

_“He made me feel unhinged . . . like he could take me apart and put me back together again and again.”  
_ _~Chelsie Shakespeare_

Minutes into the start of act two, and Les Amis and company are headed offstage again as Éponine goes off to deliver Marius’s letter, back down to wardrobe village to prepare for the barricades. They have six and a half minutes or so adjust their costumes and be back in wings ready to go on for their next scene.

Grantaire drops his jacket at his dressing station, grabbing his phone from where he stashed it to check for notifications while he gets a drink and uses the bathroom. When he returns, the room is nearly empty, the others all ready and back upstairs, nothing much worth hanging around down here for.

He grabs his red, white, and blue sash from his station and tries to tie it while heading for the stairs himself. He slings one end around his waist behind him and attempts to grab it wish his other hand, misses-

“Here, hold on.”

He freezes at the sound of Enjolras’s voice, the other man seemingly having come from nowhere. He comes up behind Grantaire, picking up the trailing end of the sash and goes to hand it back – then pauses.

Grantaire still hasn’t turned around; he can just glimpse the halo of blonde from the corner of his eye.

“Do you mind?” Enjolras asks softly, going to reach for him again, slowly, giving him plenty of time to refuse.

Grantaire nods, swallows with a throat gone suddenly dry, and lets Enjolras take the sash from his hands entirely. He loops it around easily and ties the ends at Grantaire’s right hip. “Not too tight?” he asks, and his voice seems loud in the quiet.

“No,” Grantaire murmurs. Enjolras hasn’t stepped back, remains close behind him. He imagines he can feel his breath on the back of his neck. Or maybe he’s not imagining. They’re alone in the stairwell.

“May I?” Enjolras asks, and this time Grantaire doesn’t know what he means, but he nods again anyway.

Enjolras’s hands land on his hips, light. They’d be warm, too, if there weren’t so much fabric between them. Grantaire shivers.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Enjolras says, his voice as gentle as his touch. “That’s okay, if that’s what you need. But I just want you to know. I’m here, and I’m ready. Which is not to rush you. I know you need time. But I want you to know that I want this, and I think you do too. I see the way you look at me when we’re onstage, and I don’t think it’s all acting. You don’t have to be afraid.”

Grantaire closed his eyes halfway through. Enjolras has always known him better than he’d given him credit for. He remembers that first night on stage, when everything came back. The way their eyes had locked the second they were out of view of the audience. The desperate kiss they had shared. That had been different, though, informed by the suddenly onslaught of memories and emotions neither of them had had time to sort through yet.

Enjolras’s fingers flex against him just slightly, waiting for an answering, and Grantaire is still coming to terms all over again with the fact that Enjolras can be nervous. Grantaire _does_ want this, wants that perfect closeness and love they had a lifetime ago. It was hard for them to come together then, and it is now, though he doesn’t know why. Why can’t they just pick up where they left off like Courfeyrac and Jehan or Joly and Bossuet and Musichetta?

He has to say something.

“Thank you,” he decides on, barely audible. It does mean a lot that Enjolras seems to understand. He fumbles, shaking a little, to place a hand over one of Enjolras’s. “I’m trying.” He doesn’t know how to explain; he begs silently for Enjolras’s understanding to extend just a little further.

“I understand.” It’s like he can read his mind. “Take as long as you need. If it’s not too much, can I-”

“Yes.”

Enjolras moves just a little closer – Grantaire can feel his cravat brushing his back – and then his hair touching his, and that’s definitely his breath now, warm and damp against his neck – then lips. Enjolras kisses his neck, just gently, barely a brush before he pulls away again. Grantaire lets out a shaky breath, dizzy with it.

Enjolras squeezes his hips lightly before withdrawing completely, and without any form of connection, Grantaire feels cast adrift.

“We should head up,” Enjolras says. “We’re almost on; stage management will be getting nervous. We can talk more later, if that’s okay.”

Grantaire murmurs a yes and stumbles up the rest of the stairs.


End file.
